Murderers of the Turnabout
by God-like Turnabout
Summary: What do you do when your plans fail? Very simple, actually: let the fate do its magic. An eye for an eye, and a killer gets another one, after all. Phoenix Wright and Kristoph Gavin are about to learn first-hand that karma is real, mysterious... And ironic. All thanks to a certain visitor. One-shot.


Murders of the Turnabout.

As the rain keeps hitting the streets of L.A, inside of an abandoned building, two figures are laying in one of the many rooms… And I am one of them. Who am I, you might ask? Well, first of all, and I don't mean to be rude, but that's none of your business. Second, if I told you, I'd be forced to dispose of you in the same way I'm about to do with my "playmate", so I really don't think I should tell you. You don't fit The Code, anyway.

As for my friend here, currently tied to a table by tons of duct tape and wearing nothing but his underwear (none of this willingly, in case you haven't noticed), that one I can tell you. His name is Kristoph Gavin, and our story begins about a week ago…

One Week Earlier

I'm not really a resident of the city of Angels. I'm only here on what you could call a "business trip". As insane as it might be, considering my "hobby", I work for the police as a blood spatter analyst in another city. About three days before my transfer, the LAPD called our office requesting a specialist in my area. Apparently, their own analyst was on vacation, and they had good references about me. Needless to say, no one gave me a choice in this matter (this world seems to like saying "Screw your opinion!"), so I took the first flight available. Once I got here, they tossed me into the first bloody (no pun intended) case they got: a murder at the basement of a Russian-themed restaurant.

The case was one of those open-and-closed ones for the majority of people at the unit… But I don't fit in the category of "majority". OR "people", for that matter. Everyone claimed the murderer was a poker player at the bar. Some former attorney by the name of Phoenix Wright, and it was up to little old me and Co. to prove it. While most of the scene and the evidence was against the guy, there were two things that didn't quite fit: first was a small drop of blood in one of the victim's cards. The drop came from the wound on his forehead, and the angle in which the blood dripped from it indicated that the guy had his back turned to Wright. Unfortunately for the concept humanity calls Justice, the prosecutor for that case (some wimp so boring I didn't even bother to learn his name) didn't care about what I had to say on the defendant's defense, redundancy aside. He just took the evidence to build his own case and left faster than the tourists that eat spiced food for the first time when they need to use the bathroom back at my city.

But that wasn't all I had. Though my other lead isn't the kind you can openly share with most people. The other element that didn't convince me of Wright's culpability was the voice of my Dark Passenger. The Passenger, for those who don't know, is that entity that demands me to commit acts that most members of society wouldn't approve of. Namely, kill those around me. Luckily for the world, a wise man taught me how to direct the Passenger's urge towards others like me. Basically, that person turned me into a killer of killers. Now the voice doesn't only compel me to do things. Sometimes, it tells me about things I wouldn't consciously notice about other's methods, and the killers themselves. The Passenger told me two things during the investigation, and by "told me" I mean that it planted two ideas in my head for me to follow: "Something doesn't fit" and "He didn't do it"

I wouldn't have to wait for too long to find out the truth, though. The trial started the next day, and I must admit it was certainly… Interesting. Not only their courts operate in a different way, but the defense and prosecution are even more "vocal" about their arguments. Watching people shout "OBJECTION!" and other words, while pointless, was quite fun precisely due to how pointless it was. Near the end of the trial, we had pretty much what I concluded: the victim, Shadi Smith, had his back turned to a shelf in the wall. That piece of furniture, however, was hiding a secret access from the times of the Prohibition. The true culprit came into the room using that passage, and Smith turned due to the noise of the shelf moving. Once he did, he was clubbed in the head with a bottle of grape juice (didn't even know they sell those things in bottles). The reason for using a bottle was most likely to frame Wright for the crime, since grape juice is his favorite drink, and the bottle had been used by him, ergo it had his fingerprints all over it.

By now you must be wondering "What's the point of this story?" and I can't blame you. Well, here's the point: the main defense attorney in that case is currently taped to the table in front of me. Indeed! Kristoph Gavin is (and soon the right term will be "was") a defense attorney in his own firm. During the trial against Phoenix, he acted as the main attorney on his favor, and the second chair was occupied by a rookie known as Apollo Justice. In the course of the trial, the theory came up in which Kristoph was the true killer. The evidence started to act against him, his testimony had even more holes than the buildings at the poor areas at home, and his student had suddenly developed this ability where he could perceive the nervous twitches in a person's body, adding to the amount of stress he was getting and getting him to the point of breakdown… But this world never makes things easy, and Gavin had an idea. He questioned the authenticity of the card I found stained with blood, and the case started to fall apart for the defense. He claimed the card had been forged by Wright himself since he had plenty of time to do so before the police showed up, AND he had also been disbarred due to forgery. When questioned about it, Wright tried his best to deflect everyone's attention from it and turn it back to Gavin. Unfortunately for him, Justice managed to "perceive" his lie, and the whole case crumbled. Wright was then sentenced to death, since this city seems to operate around "an eye for an eye, and a death for a killer".

Most people would have let the case be forgotten and move on with their lives, but not me. If Justice can see lies, I can see killers, and Gavin was definitely one. He had a shadow much like my own, and when we met at the exit of the Courthouse, I (or the Passenger, to be precise) saw it. He didn't seem to notice mine, however, or he was really good at hiding his concern. And then it hit me: the urge to erase someone, an urge that had been piling up ever since I got here, and I had found the best option to release it.

The following days after that fiasco of a trial, I spent every second I didn't use on work investigating my next victim. One of the best things about Kristoph was that he lived alone in a building with average security; nothing I couldn't avoid should the need to get inside showed up. And to make things easier, the only one close enough to him to notice his absence, Justice, had decided to take a brief time to think in peace. Apparently, watching as his hero was arrested and imprisoned for murder really affected the poor kid. Once my research on Kristoph was over, I started to prepare for the day we could have a little fun with him.

Luckily, I brought some of the supplies necessary for this activity with me. Some of them would be too suspicious for anyone to carry, so stuff like sedatives and my collection of blades had to stay at home. Still, I had the amount of plastic bags necessary to dispose of his leftovers, enough duct tape to keep a person twice his size in place, and a fishing line thin enough to choke and control him, but strong enough to be useful.

At last, the opportunity came up. As per his schedule, Kristoph had stayed until late doing paperwork and left the office slightly past midnight. But unlike usual, there was a little surprise waiting inside of his car. As he got up and put on the safety belt, we got up and tied the line around his neck. Like many before him, he struggled to release himself and get some crucial oxygen, but we wouldn't allow that. We increased the pressure on his throat to make our point clear. Once he stopped fighting uselessly, we loosened up the line so he could get some air and not faint due to suffocation. Then we delivered our message:

-Do as we say, and your life will be longer.

And then a question came up from him. A question we were quite familiar with during our "sessions":

-Who are you? And what do you want from me?

-Right now, we want you to drive.

I must admit, Gavin is really smart when it comes to protect his sorry existence. He immediately did as he was told, started the car and followed the directions with a great attention to detail… All part of a trick, however, as he pulled out a knife from his pocket when we were getting out of the car. This body of mine may not be Bruce Lee in physical quality, but I can certainly disarm a mere lawyer (one doesn't last long in my hobby without knowing this kind of things, after all). After a struggle, Gavin was on the ground and I had his weapon in my hands (good thing I wear gloves during the whole process). I tossed the blade inside of his car, put the line around his neck and forced him inside of the building.

Back to the Present

And after leaving Gavin K.O. and putting him in place, we're back to where we left off: a lawyer about to retire by my hands. I have my blades (which I had to buy in several stores all over the city to avoid any suspicious looks), bags, and someone to play with. I'm just waiting for the moment when he regains consciousness, which should be anytime-

-Urgh…

… soon. Showtime!

-Rise and shine, Mr. Gavin.

He tried to look around to identify his current location. Not going to happen, since the duct tape around his head blocks any movement.

-In response to your possible next 3 questions: all you need to know is that we're alone in a location that is irrelevant to what is about to happen… And no, I won't tell you who I am, since that is also irrelevant.

What was going through his mind at that moment is something I will never know nor care about. After he had gathered his ideas, he finally talked:

-WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!? If it's money you want, I can get it in no time!

-Oh, nonononono, Mr. Gavin. This isn't about money.

-THEN TELL ME YOUR PRICE! EVERY PERSON HAS A PRICE!

While I've seen many cases where that concept is right, there's a flaw in using that logic here: I am not a person.

-Well, sir, there is one thing I want from you, actually.

-I knew it! Oh, thank God! What do you want? I can get it as soon as possible if you let me go!

-All I want from you, sir, is your permanent retirement.

He didn't say anything at first, but then he eagerly answered:

-That's it? All of this incident just to have me stop practicing the law!? Fine! I can always go back to teaching, or find a different job!

And now, it was my turn to break his last hope:

-I'm afraid you still don't get it. I want you to retire… - I grabbed a scalpel. – From this world.

Kristoph struggled against the duct tape covering his body, but it was just too much for him… Maybe I overdid it, but I can always buy more of it.

-WHY!? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU!?

-Nothing, actually. – I answered as if it was really obvious.

-THEN WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?

-Because you have blood in your hands.

Cheesy, I know, but it is the truth, after all. Gavin, however, denied everything:

-What are you talking about!? I've never killed anyone!

-Oh, I think you did… - I turned to grab an envelope with pictures of his crime, and hung them in front of him by a rope that was hanging from the ceiling. – I think you did.

Kristoph didn't need much time to recognize the photos. He had seen them already, after all. Both the photos and the scene itself.

-The murder at the restaurant? Wright did that! It's already been proven in court.

-Does it really look like I play by the law? I know you did it, and I can prove it.

Then I pulled my own ace from my sleeve… My envelope, actually.

-I'm pretty sure you'll recognize this, Mr. Gavin. It was inside your home, after all.

It turns out the necessity to get inside his residence actually showed up. The Code requires me to prove someone actually murdered once, so I had to get the evidence to do so. All it took me was a little act as a delivery man to get inside the building, a little show for the cameras watching his room playing the role of someone that lost his key and went for the emergency one, and I was inside of the Gavin residence. Being the paranoid I deduced he was, he wouldn't dispose of the only piece of evidence that would mark his doom, but rather keep it in sight… Let's just say he's not really clever on the "hiding stuff" department. Kristoph, however, decided to play dumb for a while.

-What the hell is that?

-Oh, you underestimate me, sir. I'm not like everyone else out there that won't do their homework properly and thoroughly… This card is much like the one that almost took you down in that trial. Only difference being that this is the real card.

-I don't know what you're talking about!

-Oh, really? Because, if I did my homework right, this single poker card turns Wright's theory from a desperate solution from a desperate man, into an absolute truth.

Kristoph seemed to have reached the breakdown point, but he still tried to extend his life for a few more minutes:

WAIT! D-don't you want to know why… - The last remnants of his denial kicked in, but vanished as fast as they came. – Why I-I k-killed a stranger?

To be honest, that one actually bothered me for a while. Shadi Smith, as far as everyone knew, was nothing but a traveler and a poker player that just moved around the world looking for a new challenge in the game. While I'm usually not interested in the reasons behind what my playmates do, most (if not all of them) have a reason, no matter how dumb or complex it may be. Since his fate was sealed anyway, I decided to satisfy my curious side.

-I'm listening. You're talking.

Then I killed multiple birds with one cut on his cheek: I took my souvenir from this session (a small drop of blood, gently placed between two microscope sheets), I pressured him to begin with his story, and fulfilled my desire for information. Gavin told me everything about Smith, Wright, and that case 7 years ago… The Troupe Gramarye, the forged page of the diary, how it changed from winning him the case to sinking Wright, and even about how he had been keeping an eye on almost everyone involved in it. Everyone as relevant as Wright and Valant, to less known folks such as the Misham family (and he even had plans to dispose of them without getting anywhere near their building).

Once he was done, something clicked inside of me. I went outside to get the audio recorder from my car (a gift from my sister in case in case I need to take notes about a case), and told Kristoph my plans:

-Tell me everything again. Make sure not to miss anything, and make it sound like you're leaving, and not like you're being forced to do this.

He didn't take too long to get the idea, and he was quite against it…

-Why? You're about to take my life, so why are you doing this!?

I wish I knew that myself. I have a couple of theories, but I'm not too sure: I could be doing it as an extra punishment for him. After all, he did all this to mess with a man's reputation, so why not mess with his own? I could also be doing it due to the joke of a moral compass I have. While principles and morality don't tend to apply on monsters like me, I do know the basics about them. All thanks to the man that gave me a path, no less, and he always believed that no one should pay for other's actions. Then there's the possibility of a random outburst. Even I have them every once in a while… Whatever the reason, I felt like I had to do this, so I did it.

-Why? How about why not? Does that seem like a good reason?

-WHAT!? YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!

-I'd tell you to look around you, but you can't. Anyway, does this scenario looks like the best place for jokes?

And that did it. No more resistance, no more violent outbursts, and no more of him… He was nothing but an empty shell of what he used to be. They all reach this point, once they realize it's the end.

-M-my name is K-Kristoph…

A few cuts here and there should fix that stuttering.

-My name is Kristoph Gavin, and this is my story…

Two weeks later.

And now I'm back at home. After I was done with Kristoph (or what was left of him), I managed to sneak inside of his firm without getting caught on camera. Let me tell you, that trick of playing delivery guy never gets old or useless. I thought about leaving the tape with his confession on his desk, but there was always the risk of no one noticing his absence for a while. And in a city where death penalty was legal and that tape was the only thing that could save a certain hobo from it, I couldn't take any chances. So I decided to leave it in the desk of the first person who would notice he was gone: his closest student, Apollo Justice. Luckily, the kid was coming back the next day, so that took care of everything.

The rest of my stance in L.A. went by like nothing. A couple of murders here and there, lawyers shouting for no reason other than training their lungs, and a few mysterious disappearances of people that no one would miss… Well, there was one incident during the time of Wright's release for which the Passenger keeps bugging me about, but now that I'm not even in the same city as him, I see no reason to give it too much thought.

Wright's POV.

It's been two weeks since I got released, and I still can't believe it. After 7 long years of investigation, lies and pushing everyone I cared about away to protect them, it's finally over: Kristoph Gavin, the man who ruined my career and my life, is finally gone… But I just can't shake this feeling that something isn't right about it. First of all, Gavin was someone to hold secrets to the point where his heart was starting to turn blacker than the coffee of Mr. Armando. His Psyche-Locks about the case that made me lose my badge were turning from red to black, for God's sake! He wouldn't confess his crimes and leave just like that, especially when no one had any kind of evidence against him. Granted, his confession and subsequent investigations matched, but it's still something he would never do!

But that's not the most concerning part of the story. The one thing that makes me think there's more to his escape than we can see happened while I was doing the paperwork for my release. What I saw in that… entity, as it's the only term to describe what I saw, is far more terrifying than perfect prosecutors, mad actors and the evil spirit of an ex-girlfriend combined.

One week ago.

I was coming back from using the copy machine, when I suddenly bumped with one of the techs at the station. Our papers fell to the ground and got mixed, so we both went to our knees to fix that mess. In the meantime, I opted for casual conversation instead of an awkward silence…

-Sorry about that. I don't know where I had my mind before this.

-Oh, no! I'm the one that wasn't paying attention. I should know better than to check forensic reports while I walk.

That certainly caught my attention. Not many people can get their hands on those things so easily, after all, so I decided to know the person better.

-Hi. I'm Phoenix Wright. I wish we had met under better circumstances.

-Dexter Morgan, at your service.

Once I was done picking up my papers, I looked at the guy. Male, about 20-something of age, and definitely not local, seeing his tanned skin. Probably a transfer from a coast city, since those get the right kind of sun for that skin. Before I could say anything, though, Dexter beat me to it:

-Hey! I know you! You're the ex-lawyer that just got released.

-My reputation precedes me. I wish I had a better one, though.

And that was certainly true. Going from rookie attorney to legend-killer, and then from that to fraud and literal killer is not the kind of legacy I want on my name. I was about to say good bye to him when I saw Edgeworth nagging at poor Gumshoe, ergo my paperwork would have to wait until he was done. To kill some time, my brain decided to ask something to Dexter:

-Wait, you know about that case?

-Well, me and almost everyone in this building, sir. It's not everyday issue when the prosecution gets mauled by the media due to the incompetence of one of their members, after all.

Poor Winston. The one time he beats a rookie ever since I met him in court, and he was wrong about the whole case. Not only that, but he supported Kristoph's accusations about forgery of that ace just to win… Kristoph may have been right about it, but he was still a killer, and helping one certainly did a job on Payne's credibility. After giving him mental condolences, I moved on with the conversation:

-So is it true? Kristoph Gavin confessed everything and vanished just like that?

-That's the official story. His student found the tape with the confession, and the police have already investigated everything about it. They found the original ace in his apartment, checked the Misham residence for poisons and found some in a stamp and a bottle of nail polish, and they're currently looking for him. All you need to know is that you're clear of charges: both murder and forgery.

It feels good to hear it over and over again, but I just can't help but think that there's more to this…

-Is there anything else you can tell me about it?

-Nopes. Sorry, sir, but I'm just a humble blood spatter analyst. Gavin left no blood behind him, so there's nothing for me to work on…

Nothing was wrong to that point. Just two strangers having a casual conversation about a common topic… Until his last statement, that is.

-I don't know anything else about it.

And then something happened: my Magatama, a gift from an old friend that allows me to see the lies in a person's heart in the form of Psyche-Locks, reacted to Dexter's comment about not knowing anything about it… What I saw would hunt me for the rest of my life.

A single Psyche-Lock appeared in the center of his chest, but this wasn't like any I've seen before. It was as black as Kristoph's, but it was stained with blood. I've seen blood before, so I knew that was it. But then, something appeared behind Morgan… A shadow, as tall as its owner (or vessel), made of absolute darkness stood behind Dexter. Eyes that were a shiny blood red looked straight to me, and I felt as my soul went to hell and back. But that wasn't the end of it: hundreds of locks, similar to the one in Dexter's heart (or what one could call heart), were covering the shadow guy and the original lock joined its peers. The shadow gave one final look to me, whispered something on Morgan's ear, which he seemed to somewhat hear (he didn't respond, but he reacted to its comment), and the real world came back. The words of this "monster" brought me back to reality:

-Well, sir. No matter how fun it is talking to you, I have other issues I must solve as soon as possible. Bye, Mr. Wright!

And he just left, and I was alone with my own thoughts. He left because of what the shadow told him, I know it! But he made is sound like he wasn't concerned about me in the least! Such hypocrisy just made me feel more anger than I've ever felt before… But I just stood there without doing anything.

The Present.

Why I didn't do anything about it is beyond me. Maybe it's because seeing blood-stained Psyche-Locks and inner shadows is not admitted in court, and would even get me locked in the nut house. Can't afford to let that happen, since I have a child to take care of.

Another reason could be out of fear. If I'm right, Dexter is worse than anyone I've ever met before. I don't know how far he would go to protect such secret, and I just got rid of a madman!

And then there's a reason that, no matter how much I hate to admit it, it's there: he took care of Gavin. I don't want to admit it, but I'm only sitting in my couch because of him. I could be inside a prison cell, or even dead if my execution had been programmed soon after my conviction… And for that, I'm grateful. I don't approve of whatever methods he used, but he did in a few days what I couldn't do in over 7 years.

But that doesn't matter anymore! He's gone, and hopefully, he'll never come back…

**A/N: Hey there, readers! Just a one-shot I came up with, so there's not much to say about it. For those of you that have seen my previous work, but want an update, I tell you this: I'm sorry, people! I had a little block, but now I'm back to it. Expect an update for "The Psychic Turnabout" by April. And much like Heath Ledger's Joker… "I'm a man of my word".**

**That's pretty much it. Review, like and whatever FF allows you to do if you enjoyed this. Take care, internets!**


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